Did You Forget Yourself?
by Sir Jason Kidd Gray
Summary: Kemal Pamuk took Lady Mary's heart one night in 1912. She captivated him with her rebellious ways, and he enchanted her with his roguishness. From that night on, the Turkish emissary never let go. But the young lovers face war, jealousy, opposed parents-and the all-important question of class integrity. Contains Mary/OC, Anna/Bates, Sybil/OC, Sybil/Tom, and other pairings.
1. Chapter 1: A Night To Remember

**Chapter One: A Night to Remember**

**May 1912**

"I'm very attracted to the Turkish culture," Thomas murmured.

As he fastidiously examined his reflection in the mirror, Kemal Pamuk ignored the voice of the footman assigned to serve him. The half-Turkish, half-Greek emissary cared very little for the thoughts of a servant, let alone a servant who was not his. His lemon yellow tie would not fasten under the ministrations of even Kemal's nimble fingers. If he were less than dashing, then what hope would he have to enchant the Lady Mary?

"Tie this for me." Kemal turned to face the footman, whose name he hadn't bothered to remember.

"I would certainly like to visit Turkey someday," the footman continued.

_'On what salary? Surely the passage across the sea would cost you whatever meager savings you might hope to have,' _Kemal thought derisively. He stared into the space over the top of the servant's head; Kemal was at least four inches taller than the footman.

"Yes, the country is quite beautiful. You should go someday if you have the chance."

"I would love to see such an exotic land—and its people in all their glory."

Kemal should have seen it coming: the caress of the English footman's fingers on his cheek. The Turkish emissary reacted to the footman's touch like a searing hot iron. The footman backed away, hurt and fear wedded in his eyes.

"Have you forgotten yourself? That will teach you to believe what the English say about foreigners."

"I'm-I'm-I'm sorry, it wasn't…."

"Do not lie to me." Kemal could have fastened his fingers around the footman's throat and slain him there, and none would have been the wiser. He had visited enough English homes since he embarked to discuss the independence of Albania to grasp the treatment of their servants. "You presumed the exotic foreigner would have such tastes as run rampant here."

"Please…"

"I could report you for such behavior," Kemal turned and aggressively began to fasten his own tie, using the mirror as a guide. "If you attempted such a thing in Turkey, the Sultan would have you executed. But I will make you a deal."

Thomas' eyes brightened at the notion. "What sort of deal?"

"I require your assistance with…the geography of the house. There is someone I may wish to visit later tonight." Kemal's rage had subsided only with the thought of the expedition he would soon undertake. "If all goes well, your behavior will go unreported."

* * *

The tedium of the dinner was followed by the nightfall. Although Kemal was not the only suitor trying to converse with Lady Mary, the others failed to retain her interest. He could see it in her lovely dark eyes when he summoned her to the adjacent drawing room after dinner.

When he beckoned to her, she came to him.

In the drawing room, she breathlessly engaged him in an insipid conversation about a meaningless portrait.

When he placed his lips on hers, Mary yielded fervently to him.

As instructed, Thomas came to Kemal's quarters once slumber had come to visit the rest of the manor. The Turkish emissary pretended to be asleep, but he watched Thomas carefully when the footman entered his room. Through half-closed lids, Kemal studied the footman's approach. When he reached the bed with the alacrity and stealth of an assassin, Thomas hovered over his bed. Kemal felt his dark eyes rake his motionless form before he reached for and stirred Kemal's slim hip bone.

Kemal pretended to wake only at that moment. "Is it time?"

Thomas merely motioned for the young emissary to follow him. Gathering his red silk night robe from the coat tree beside his bed, Kemal wrapped it around his lean frame and followed the footman down the long, drafty corridor from the bachelor's quarters. They past the rich mahogany doors marking the chambers of Lord and Lady Grantham with increased caution, and Kemal noted a drastic difference in the wallpaper decorating the walls of the maidens' quarters. In the bachelors' quarters, the walls were steely gray, but in the ladies' wing, their walls were decorated graciously with pirouetting ballerinas.

Outside the maidens' wing, Thomas produced a brass key from his pocket and used it to unlock the heavy wooden door separating the women from the rest of the manor. Kemal wasn't surprised by the existence of such doors. It seemed to him that every stately home in England had a similar door to deter men from plucking the fair roses of its prominent lords and ladies. But no gate or door had yet stopped Kemal from plucking his fair share of flowers. Lord Grantham's door was no exception.

Thomas pointed Kemal to the first door on his left, which the young emissary found unlocked. He opened the door and swept into the room.

Lady Mary leaped from her bed, tossing aside her book, and gaped at Kemal in alarm. It could not have been a more enchanting moment if Kemal had planned it. The fire crackling in Lady Mary's fireplace waltzed warmly across the exposed plain of his lean chest and illuminated the gold embroidery of his robe. Kemal had brushed his wavy hair before retiring to bed, and they added to his handsomeness.

Mary's snow white complexion was invigorated by the heat of the room so that the faintest blush dusted her cheeks. Her hair, loosened from its dinner arrangement, tumbled freely about her slim shoulders to the décolletage of her nightgown. Kemal had known buxom women and humbled-chested women. Mary's humble bosom complimented her body, made athletic by obvious riding experience.

"What are you doing here?" Mary demanded indignantly. She picked up the ivory cover of her bed and clutched it to her chest.

Kemal smiled inwardly. Brazen as Mary portrayed herself, she was quite chaste. His impulsive kiss in the drawing room had confirmed that. He could tell she admired his confident, roguish ways and his physical beauty, but was reluctant to surrender her chastity that alone. So his tactic for charming her had to be different from his tactic for seducing every other woman he had met.

"That kiss was not all I hoped to share with you tonight."

"What more could you hope to share in my room than we could share in public?"

"Forgive me for my improper courtship, but…."

"You should get out. Get out, or I'll…"

"Scream?" Kemal finished with a half-smirk. "And let them find a man in your bedroom? Think of how that would look."

"I do not mean to give myself to you. So leave, please."

"Do you then deny that you looked upon me today with desire? Or that you yielded to my affections earlier?"

Kemal took two steps closer to Mary. Her seductive brown eyes spoke of the skittishness common to her kind (genus: female, species: virgo), and she clung to the cover as a brick wall to safeguard her virtue.

"You must be mad?"

"I am. I am in the grip of madness."

Despite the security of her blanket, Mary stepped closer to Kemal. So close, he could inhale her fragrance and the heady aroma of something more powerful and alluring. Her scent reminded Kemal of the belly-dancing woman who had been his first conquest. Yet, she remained at arm's length.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking? I'd be ruined if my parents—or anyone—ever knew we had this conversation, let alone…"

"You would still be a virgin for your husband."

Kemal took two steps closer to Mary. Although she did not realize it, Mary was now trapped between the bed and his body. She lowered the cover only slightly. "Heavens, is this a proposal?'

He scoffed at the idea. _'The British Empire is not yet equipped for a marriage between a swarthy Turk and an English maiden. But you are not ready to accept that, are you, Lady Mary?'_ "I don't think our union would please your family."

"I'm afraid not."

"Nor would mine be pleased." Kemal smirked inwardly at his swift thinking. "But…a little imagination….You wouldn't be the first."

Kemal closed the distance between them and stroke Mary's loose luxuriant brown curls. "You and my parents have something in common. You believe I'm much more a rebel than I am." He kissed her neck at the pulse point. Mary's heart throbbed all the more rapidly at his touch. She yielded and fell backward onto the bed.

"If I've led you on, then it's my mistake," she gasped, while Kemal rained kisses on her neck and bared shoulders. "I'm not what you think I am."

Kemal paused and gazed into Mary's eyes. Her body arced against his, and Kemal felt her supple, erect breasts pressed against him. _'Surely she feels my manhood pressed against him. Mary's body wants me. Now I need to persuade her lips to betray her as well.'_

"You are exactly who I think you are."

"I've never done anything with a man," she gasped.

Kemal concentrated his eyes on hers. "One look at you could tell me that." He pressed his lips to hers. Only the smallest amount of resistance was there any longer. _'Mary's lips taste of vanilla and cinnamon, a taste of life at home.'_ "Oh my darling, let us at least have tonight."

He showered Mary's lips and neck with kisses while shrugging off his night robe. "Is it safe?"

"Trust me." Kemal pressed his lips—and his hips—to meet Mary's and met no resistance at all. As his kisses grew more passionate, Mary slipped off the straps and sleeves of her nightgown.

* * *

In the wee hours of the morning, Kemal slipped from Lady Mary's chamber. The soft carpet beneath his feet absorbed his footsteps. Fortunately, the satiated heiress whispered directions to return to his chamber before she shut her door. Kemal unlocked the door to the maidens' wing and crept down the corridor to the bachelors' quarters. He was accustomed to the awkward silence of the deflowered woman after a night of passionate lovemaking, but Kemal was respectfully unwilling to alert the house. After all, there was no need to shame the woman after he had taken her maidenhood.

As Kemal strode down the hallway to his bedchamber, he didn't turn back and look for even one second. If he had, Kemal would have seen the timid housemaid, Daisy, leaning out of Lady Sibyl's bedroom to observe the source of the footsteps in the hall at such an early hour.


	2. Chapter 2: The Morning After

**Author's Note: Thanks to MH96 and JClayton for following this story and to koryandrs for the review! I just started watching Downton Abbey, and I've only watched Series 1-3 so far. **

**Review and follow. If you have any advice on my characterizations of any characters or any plot suggestions, leave them as reviews or PM me.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Morning After**

Later that morning, Lord Napier announced that he had to return to London with Kemal. "His father at the embassy is most anxious to see our white sails of return."

"Oh? I supposed you've slain your Minotaur then?" Lady Mary's voice feigned cool impassiveness, but Kemal's dark eyes could see through the façade.

"I believe I have. After all, the hero is always victorious," Edward replied.

"Even if you lack certainty, I know I have." Mary's petrified expression amused Kemal._ Why does she allow her emotions to be so legible? _"Yesterday's bear was quite a feat."

"Yes, the beast must have weighed two stone at least."

"But the story is incomplete without Ariadne at my side."

"Kemal, you've forgotten Theseus did not return home with Ariadne. And the beast didn't seem that frightfully large to me." Lord Evelyn Napier scooped a forkful of poached egg into his mouth and dabbed his mouth with his napkin.

"Perhaps it was only from a woman's perspective that I thought it so large. It made a satisfying meal last night." Mary slyly cut her eyes at Kemal. "Mama, what did you think of yesterday's boar?"

"Your father and I thought it was the largest one we've seen for some time now. And it was quite palatable. I suspect Mrs. Patmore prepared something spicier for it, in honor of our exotic guest."

Lady Grantham smiled congenially at Kemal over her glass of water. _'"Exotic," that's how all these English aristocrats think of me. As though I am some newly discovered fowl.'_ Kemal did not forget himself. _'I am in the home of a wealthy gentleman. I have already bedded his eldest daughter and charmed the entire female populace of his estate. Why should I shame Lord Grantham further with my personal quarrels?'_

"My compliments are owed both to the cook and to the Lady who prepared my meal."

To his right, Evelyn whispered, "Lady Mary, I wondered if you and I might tour the gardens after breakfast."

Mary glanced at Kemal. Everything about him, from the cut of his clothes to the way he ate, seemed effortlessly graceful to her. It was enchanting to see how practiced he was with English traditional tastes. Her presumptions of him were far from the mark, based on the stereotype of Turkish visitors. Nothing about Kemal was what she expected.

"What about Mr. Pamuk?" she whispered back to Evelyn.

"I'm sure he can find other entertainment here at Downton. Perhaps your father and Matthew could distract him for a moment?"

Social mores flitted through Mary's head. "I suppose so. But we have to be proper about everything. I'll invite Edith and Mr. Pamuk."

Clearing her throat, Mary drew the attention of the entire table. "Lord Napier and I would like to take a walk in the gardens, since he's quite unfamiliar with Downton, and I wondered if Mr. Pamuk and Edith would be so kind as to accompany us."

"I had thought Evelyn and I were to leave in a few hours? Downton is no small property. Even a walk through the gardens would preclude our timely departure."

"Mr. Pamuk, it's proper etiquette to accompany two young people on such an expedition. Otherwise, the young lady's reputation risks being stained," Edith explained enthusiastically.

Kemal's eyes met Lady Mary's. "I would do nothing to harm Lady Mary's reputation."

* * *

"You see that one there?" Edith pointed to a bed of flowers whose violet petals were closed securely. "Those are my mother's primroses, grown from a stock she had in America and planted in English soil. I suppose they're just like Mama in that way."

Edith attempted a small giggle, but Kemal politely ignored her. His chocolate eyes burned into the back of Lady Mary's hand. "Why are the primroses closed, Lady Mary?"

Mary stopped and turned. Her arm uncoiled from Evelyn's left one. "Primroses only open their petals at night and are closed during the day."

"A flower that only opens its petals at night? How lady-like."

Kemal flashed his cheeky, disarming smile and was rewarded with a reddening of Mary's cheeks. Neither Evelyn nor Edith could break their gazes from the painting on her cheeks. "Perhaps we should go inside and prepare for our departure."

"If you want to stay a while longer…." Mary began.

"No, I have appointments to keep in London. And I'm certain Kemal's father, the Turkish ambassador, desires to see him." Evelyn recaptured Mary's arm and led the way into the manor.

Kemal watched his friend retreat into the manor with Lady Edith close to his side. "Lady Edith, is there such a flower that grows in such a way as to kill any competing ones?"

"Yes, Mr. Pamuk, but I would have to ask the gardener what it is."

"All I need is a reference. I may want to grow a garden of them. Excuse me, Lady Edith. It has been a pleasure to walk through your mother's garden this morning." With that, Kemal returned to the manor.

* * *

Later that morning, Kemal shut the door of the car into which he and Evelyn were departing. Evelyn had dressed in a dark blue traveling suit and brown traveling shoes, while Kemal wore traveling spats and a houndstooth suit that complimented his lean body, sculpted by years of exercise and riding. Only one of the men attracted the longing gazes of the Crawley sisters, and he was not the English-born.

"Must you do that at every estate and family house?" Evelyn sniped.

"Do what?" Kemal stared directly at the back of the driver's head.

"Seduce every grand lord's daughter with your charm and wit." Evelyn took a pregnant breath. "It's amusing when it involves someone I don't care for, but…"

For all his worldly sophistication and grasp of how women thought, Kemal could not wrap his mind around Evelyn's thoughts. "But what? I promise you, Nappy, that there was no seduction of the Lady Mary—or any other woman of Lord Grantham's household, for that matter. Am I to suppress my upbringing or dress in a manner unbecoming of my station in order to placate your insecurities?"

"I asked you to leave Lady Mary outside the sphere of your rakish influence."

"You act as though I behaved without chivalry. Lady Mary is a woman who knows her own mind."

"Do I need to remind you what happened with Lord Aubrey's granddaughter? Should I recount some of the stories she spread around her social set in London of your…charm? As I recall, you flippantly excused yourself with the same exact words."

"I respected the huntress when she gave chase," Kemal replied tensely.

"I told you then as I do now: A woman such as Lady Mary pursues more than one quarry on her chase. Out of respect for your life, you ought to let the better man sacrifice his."

Kemal stared out the window at the passing countryside. Downton Abbey had a wonderful verdant stretch of unpaved road leading to the manor. Through the gaps of the trees, Kemal could see the grounds on which the previous day's hunt had occurred.

"There is so much beauty to enjoy in this area of Yorkshire, Nappy." Returning his gaze to his friend, Kemal added in a darker tone, "Do you honestly believe you are the better man between us?"

"I am possessed of a title, an estate, and well-bred English blood. I may not be a very interesting man, but I would hope my wife would find me so."

"And that wife would be Lady Mary?" Evelyn remained stoic. "Yes, I noticed her flight into your arms yesterday. She was quite the frightened prey."

Evelyn now turned his eyes onto the countryside. "I intend not to engage in the hunt if she is in pursuit of another. And what beauty is there? This countryside is quite dreary. I long for London."

"That's the best choice for you, Nappy. I'm glad that, if nothing else, you saw the primroses during our trip to Downton."

Still gazing out the window, Evelyn asked, "Did you see them when they were open?"

"How could I? I did not walk in the garden last night."


	3. Chapter 3: Warning Signs

**Chapter 3: Warning Signs**

**July 1912**

"I'm positively thrilled to see the end of this summer. Aren't you?" Sybil proclaimed. She sauntered into the dining room for breakfast in a dress of tulle over blue cotton and brown leather laced-up boots.

Mary thought Sybil looked very excited. Her youngest sister had braided back the jet-black hair they had in common. Sybil's radiant face glowed from her announcement.

"I can see why you would be excited. Won't this be your first debutante season?"

Edith's skin also glowed in the caress of the sunlight illuminating the dining room. It was the only appealing feature of the middle Crawley sister. Her nose was too large; her eyes were too protruding; and her blonde hair lacked sheen. When she leaned forward, she looked to Mary very much like a frog compared to Princess Sybil.

Sybil nodded cheerfully and took her seat. Edith rolled her eyes and sipped from her water glass. "I find that very dull indeed. Debutante season is hardly a cause for excitement."

Mary viciously rolled her eyes. "_Your_ debutante season was dull, and I remember you excited no one with _your_ presence."

Edith gaped at her sister's remark. Sybil disguised her smile with her napkin, ever the neutral sister, and Lady Grantham chuckled. "If your wit isn't sharp, Edith, perhaps you shouldn't have asked to duel."

Lord Grantham cleared his throat. Every woman at the table turned to him with the deference of being women under his protection. He took his time to dab his mouth before speaking to the room. "Now's not the time for a duel of wits. I believe we'll have a visitor for dinner tonight."

He nodded his austere head at his wife. Cora Crawley's enchanting blue eyes lit as they always did with exciting news. "Yes, girls, it seems your grandmother has invited Lord and Lady Crestwick to dine with us this evening—along with their five eligible grandsons."

Mary took a sip of water to keep silent. Sybil's face retained its excited glow. "Are you still trying to marry off Mary, Mama?" Edith asked.

The eldest Crawley sister ignored her younger blonde sister. From birth, Edith enjoyed annoying Mary. She cried all hours while an infant and drew the constant attention of her parents. When she was a little girl, Edith often had accidents that Mary and Sybil avoided. Sybil, on the other hand, had the lovely peacekeeping disposition expected of a middle child.

"I'm trying to have all three of you married into respectable families. Mary, most especially, in case we cannot undo the Entail."

"Yes, Edith, Mama did say '_five_ eligible grandsons.' Have your senses gone as dull as your wit?"

Edith cut her eyes at Mary. "Grandmama has a saying: Stale goods should come from the shelf before the fresh ones. I simply thought Mama was following sound advice."

"Enough, girls! I hope you've quite emptied yourselves of bitter feelings for the day. I will not have you undercut the interests of this family tonight." Cora's hardened eyes raked both of her elder daughters. Edith lowered her gaze to the tablecloth, and Mary took a bite of her poached eggs.

A few seconds of silence passed. As Mary chewed the eggs, her stomach lurched. She stopped chewing and grimaced.

"I'm glad to have our visitors tonight," Sybil piped up. "I look forward to…"

"Mary, are you alright?" Lord Grantham interrupted.

His eldest daughter raised her cloth napkin to her lips and expelled the offending bolus of food, which she absconded beneath the napkin on the plate. Bile started to rise in her throat, and Mary clutched her stomach in the hope of containing it. "May I be excused? I suddenly don't feel well."

"We expect you to return for dinner tonight. Your grandmother, Matthew, and Isobel will dine with us tonight."

Mary nodded and hurried from the room. She scampered upstairs, struggling to keep her vomit contained until she reached her personal lavatory. When she pushed the door behind her, Mary dropped to her knees before the toilet and hurled violently all that she had consumed that morning.

While she retched, footsteps approached. Mary hated the weak feeling of her body betraying her. The convulsions were too strong to stop and maintain her dignity. Someone—a woman by the sound of the clicking heels with each footstep—entered the room and waited until Mary's stomach emptied. Mary sat back on her heels and faced her intruder.

"Lady Mary, are you alright? Your mother sent me upstairs to check." Anna, her ladies' maid, stood in the doorway. Her hands fretted anxiously, and her pretty face contorted with worry.

"Yes….No, Anna, I'm not." Breathless, Mary leaned against the cool wallpaper. Her right hand fluttered instinctively to her restless stomach. "It seems I've suddenly taken ill."

Anna helped Mary to her feet. She put her neck and shoulders under Mary's right arm and led the eldest Crawley daughter to her four-poster bed. "What's wrong? Do you need me to call the doctor?"

"No. There's no need. I just need to lie down." Anna eased Mary onto the bed and lifted her feet from the floor. Mary took steadying breaths while the maid unlaced her boots. When Anna had bared her feet, Mary sat upright and helped Anna undo her dress.

The maid carried Mary's dress and boots to the wardrobe. Mary pulled the sheets over her body, almost nude in her undergarments. "Your mother sent me to look after you. Is there anything you wanted? Would you like some soup, broth, or bread milady?"

"Thank you, Anna," Mary sighed, "but you've done enough. I just need to lie down. Please come fetch me before tea."

"As you wish, milady."

* * *

"Something has to come of this. There's no use in knowing who spilt the milk if you can't drink it," Thomas fumed.

"Are you certain he even spent the night with Lady Mary?" Mrs. O' Brien inquired.

They stood side-by-side in an alcove of the yard outside the Downton Abbey kitchen. Under the guise of taking their respective cigarette breaks, they plotted in the shadow of the alcove. After all, their enemies were the same people.

Thomas took a pronounced drag on the cigarette in his mouth. "I saw Mr. Pamuk enter her room and saw him get up in the morning. No alarm was raised during the night. He wasn't caught obviously. What else is to be assumed?"

"Don't know as I care, to be honest. If Lady Mary did get familiar with the Turk, what's it to our lives? We'll still be downstairs."

"That's the only use of knowing things like this: climbing up the ladder."

Mrs. O' Brien threw down her cigarette. "I suggest you either put this behind you or find a way to do exactly that, with the information you've got."

"If only there was some evidence of what happened that night…"

"There's nothing that's surfaced in all this time. Not even a dirty bed sheet. Maybe it should be left alone." With that, Mrs. O' Brien retreated into the house, leaving Thomas to finish off his cigarette.

* * *

Inside the manor, Lady Grantham waited at the foot of the stairs for Anna to descend. As soon as the maid was face-to-face with her, she seized Anna's arm. "How is she? Was Mary truly ill, or…."

"No, ma'am; Lady Mary is truly ill. It's something with her stomach."

Anna had hoped Lady Grantham would be at ease with her diagnosis. She was disappointed. "Should we call Dr. Clarkson?"

"I don't believe so, ma'am. She doesn't seem to be in any pain or discomfort."

"Should we tell Mrs. Patmore? I'd hate to have to say something to her; she's always been such a terrific cook. Surely it's not her fault Mary took ill?"

Anna glanced away. She'd been raised to be an honest, respectable woman, despite her social status. "No, ma'am, I don't think it was something in her food."

"What else could it be?"

"Perhaps she's come down with something, and shouldn't attend the dinner tonight."

"No, we can't afford that." Lady Grantham's soft blue eyes assumed a ruthless coldness. "Edith may be crass, but she's also right about Mary's age. One way or another, Mary needs to be settled. I personally believe she would more secure in a marriage, don't you?"

"I suppose so, ma'am."

"Our kind doesn't divorce, after all, without causing a horrible scandal. I'll have Thomas or another servant go to the town for Doctor Clarkson before lunch. Thank you for watching her, Anna."

Lady Grantham started up the stairs. Anna wrung her hands with a fretful expression on her face then started downstairs. Midway there, Mr. Bates intercepted her as he walked in the opposite direction. The sturdy mien of the older man caused Anna's breath to catch in her throat. Her heart raced—but not from fear.

"Good morning again, Mr. Bates," Anna greeted breathlessly.

"Good morning, Anna." They smiled at each other, but concern soon chilled Mr. Bates' smile. "Anna, has something happened? Is Lady Mary doing well?"

"Everything's alright. Why do you ask?"

"The footmen were saying that Lady Mary took ill during breakfast with the family. Since you're her maid…."

"She's doing well. She's resting. Her Ladyship will send someone for Doctor Clarkson shortly."

"Still, you don't seem well. Is there another matter?"

Anna scanned the hallway and lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. There were too few people who could be trusted in the manor house. "Lady Mary is well, but I fear…she's taken ill in a different way than she should have."

"What could you mean?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know it's comparatively short. I wrote out a longer one, but it didn't feel right. Please review and follow! **


End file.
